


Come To Yours

by hope_in_the_dark



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (not mentioned explicitly but it's me so they're ace), Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Consent for Kisses!!, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, Gentle Kissing, Good Omens Lockdown, Hugs, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), They are Married (TM) but only in spirit because actually y'all they're dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_in_the_dark/pseuds/hope_in_the_dark
Summary: Obligatory "Good Omens: Lockdown" ficlet. This is what happens after the end of the phone call.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 198





	Come To Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just a quick thing I wrote for [Tumblr](https://hope-inthedark.tumblr.com/post/617150885091508224/come-to-yours) and decided to put it here as well. I hope y'all like it! And if you're following The Realm of You, rest assured that I haven't forgotten about it. I'll hopefully have an update soon!
> 
> No warnings, I don't think. Just fluff.

Forty-seven hours after Crowley wished Aziraphale a good night, his mobile phone buzzed on the coffee table. The rerun of  _ Golden Girls  _ that had been playing on the television paused itself, and Crowley answered the phone on the second ring. 

“Hi, angel.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, voice flipping into a higher register on the second syllable. “I rather thought you might be asleep.” 

“Thought I’d give it the full two days. Just to see if anything interesting would happen.” 

Aziraphale’s laugh was tight. “Has it?” 

“Not in the slightest.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale. Crowley could practically hear him dithering. 

“What can I do you for, angel?” 

“I was thinking about this lockdown situation a bit more, and it occurred to me that you and I have a way of seeing one another without venturing outside and risking contamination.” 

“Do we?”

“We’re able to perform miracles, dear,” Aziraphale said, the words falling out of his mouth in a rush. “No contact with the outside world needed.” 

“I see,” drawled Crowley. He’d thought of this option on the first day of the lockdown, but he’d thought it best not to push anything. Let things go along at Aziraphale’s pace. 

“I just thought I should let you know.” 

“Do you want me to come over?” Crowley swung his legs off the edge of the couch and stood up, fingers already halfway to a snap. 

“Well, no.” 

Crowley froze. “No?” 

“I, er. Thought that I might come to yours.”

The sound Crowley made was a complicated knot made of strings of letters. 

“I wouldn’t want to be an imposition,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I’d simply been thinking that you and I always seem to spend time at the bookshop, even after everything that happened last summer. The only time we went to your home rather than mine was when my home was… well, when my home was gone.” 

“Not an imposition,” Crowley said, finding control of his tongue again. “And yeah, I know. I just— look, I know you’re more comfortable there. And I want you to be comfortable.” 

“I shall be quite comfortable wherever I am, my dear, so long as I’m with you.” 

The speed at which Aziraphale could shift gears had been giving Crowley whiplash for months. He could be nervous and shy one moment, rambling on about things and explaining his every thought, and with the next breath he’d be complimenting Crowley or taking Crowley by the hand or saying absurd things like “I love you.” It was chaotic, and it was baffling, and Crowley never wanted it to stop. Aziraphale could be nervous for as long as he needed to be. He could work out the millennia of accumulated fears and apprehensions over as long a time as he needed to. Crowley wasn’t going anywhere. 

So Crowley said, “Ngh, you great bloody sap,” and when Aziraphale laughed this time, it was sunlight. 

“Although now that you mention it, I _was_ wondering if it would be possible for me to bring a few comforts along with me.” 

“Sure,” Crowley said. 

“Just a couple of things, really. I do have all of this cake, and it would be a shame to let it go stale while I’m away.” 

Crowley knew as well as Aziraphale did that the cakes wouldn’t be any worse for the wear if Aziraphale didn’t want them to be, but he let it slide. 

“Okay. Cakes, fine.” 

“And a few books, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

“And a blanket — it’s the one you like best, Crowley, the tartan one from the sofa in my backroom.” 

“Great.” 

“And a cardigan, and a jumper. And a spare bowtie. Oh, and—” 

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted. “It’s fine. It’s all fine. Anything you want.” 

“You are the most wonderful creature,” Aziraphale said with a relieved-sounding sigh. “In that case, I’ll be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” 

“I’m in the lounge.” 

“Ah, thank you. Wonderful.” 

With a slight bend of the air, Aziraphale appeared at the end of Crowley’s sofa. Two traveling trunks that Crowley estimated to be at least two hundred years old stood next to Aziraphale, and a small mountain of baked goods made it very difficult for Crowley to see any part of Aziraphale’s face. 

“Hello, angel,” Crowley said, pressing the red button on his phone to end the call and ensuring that the reciever on Aziraphale’s phone in the bookshop found its way back into its cradle. 

With a small click of his fingers, the pile of cakes in Aziraphale’s arms vanished, and Aziraphale took a hesitant half-step forward. 

“Hello, my dear.”

Crowley closed the gap between them, pushing his nose into Aziraphale’s hair and breathing deeply. Paper and ink and leather and glue, as always, but there were new things, too. Vanilla and cardamom. Lemon and cinnamon. Sugar and flour. And beneath all of that, the sharp clean smell of Aziraphale himself. 

“Missed you,” Crowley said to the top of Aziraphale’s head. 

“I missed you, too.” 

Crowley pulled back slightly, settling his hands on Aziraphale’s waist. He studied Aziraphale’s eyes, searching for the fear or hesitation or anxiety that sometimes took root there, but he found none. 

So, quietly and as softly as he could manage, Crowley asked, “Kiss okay?” 

“Quite a lot more than just okay.” 

For the first time in weeks, Crowley felt Aziraphale’s lips under his. He kept the kiss soft, gentle. No pushing. No going too fast. Letting Aziraphale lead, letting Aziraphale set the pace. 

He could go as slow as Aziraphale needed, because all the time in the world and everything that would come after was theirs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr!](%E2%80%9C)
> 
> Also, if you would like to make any sort of creative work (art, podfic, whatever) based on this or any of my stories, consider this blanket permission to do so! I only ask that you would tag me in your work so that I can see it and share it! Thank you for being here, and thank you for reading. I hope you are having the best day!


End file.
